


Male Reader X Female Pennywise

by CampGreen



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: F/M, Horror, Literature, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 06:18:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12699090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampGreen/pseuds/CampGreen
Summary: If the Michael Myers story was a Halloween holiday special, think of this as a Birthday holiday special, even though that's stupid. Usually I shamelessly bastardize and sexualize horror stories, but for once this shit is tame compared to the original: Stephen King's It. No underaged gangbangs here, scout's honor.





	1. A Rainy Derry Day

Wow, what a great way to spend your 16th birthday! No breakfast in bed, no wild surprise party with your friends, just getting stuck in the belly of freezing cold thunderstorm in your walk home from school. Who needs balloons and cakes when you have the wrath of Mother Nature screaming at you from the heavens. It's pouring like there's a hurricane brewing today. The sky is completely eclipsed by fat black clouds, and if it weren't for your bright yellow raincoat burning through the drab fog, every centimeter of your body would be soused in rainwater. You take refuge underneath a smoking shelter, and shiver upon the bench as you wait for your ride home. Hopefully the bus wasn't cancelled in light of the bad storm. It should be here in a few minutes. Derry's never gotten rain this harsh before. Through word-of-mouth you heard this weather's here to stay all month. They better be just that - rumors.

_"Hey, (Y/N.)"_

What was that? The pitter-patter of heavy precip against the shelter roof muffles plenty, but you swear you heard a low, hissing voice crawl out from under you. No hobos crashing underneath the bench from the looks of it. You're pretty sure you heard your name too. Whatever. Cool, the puddles are talking to you n-

_"Hey, (Y/N)!"_

It's coming from the gutter. You hang your head over the curb as a small river of rainwater runs down it, and in the storm drain is a - GAH! Is that a fucking clown?! It's a woman from the looks of it, but it's not like clowns are very macho to begin with. Her appearance is so ghastly. Her full-body chalk makeup and colorless, skintight, and skirted costume contrasts with the flaming (and not in a good way) zeal in her unfaltering smile and unblinking eyes. It's hard to get a good look at the rest of her since she's half-eaten by the shadows of the storm sewer, but her face is on full display as it's draped in a neatly combed back, ginger mane and accented with blood red lips, a nose, and tears running through her yellow, sunken eyes.

_"Well? Aren'tcha gonna say hello back?"_

Well, this is gonna take a while to unpack. What to ask first? Why are you a sewer-dweller in a clown costume? Who the fuck are you? Oh, here's a good one. _"How the hell do you know my name?"_

_"Oh, I know a lot of things, (Y/N). Like how, exactly 16 years ago, one beautiful, gorgeous little baby boy was born. Am I wrong?"_

Oh, so this is a birthday thing, figures. _"Are you someone from school or something? I'm sorry I don't recognize you."_

_"Does Pennywise the Dancing Clown ring a bell?...I thought not."_

_"Is this your idea of a party? I mean, thanks for remembering, at least, you're already in the lead..."_

_"Oh yeah, there's a party down here, (Y/N). There's cake and balloons and party hats, there's everything! Why don't you get out of that pouring rain and..."_ Drool begins to leak down her chin. _"Pay Aunt Penny a visit?"_

_"Look, I appreciate it, I guess, but I'm sure as hell not coming down there with you."_

_"Aw, c'mon, (Y/N)! You'd rather spend all day under those mean clouds than down here with these?"_ She pulls her top up to reveal- oh, hello. A modest but certainly mouth-watering pair of tits only a few inches away from your face, as pasty as the rest of her. She draws her tongue around her lips and stares you in the eyes as she loses all ten of her nails in the two bubbles of white. Her breasts aren't the biggest you've seen (well, they're the _only_ you've seen in person), but the sheer malleability of the things make you drool as much she is. _"Don't be shy. **They don't bite..."**_

If there's a surefire way to reel unsuspecting victims into a trap, this is the one. Despite the storm's cold, at this point, you're as red as the three fuzzballs on Pennywise's top from embarrassment and underneath your coat. Are you seriously about to do this? You dart your head around the rest of the block and see nothing. Good, no one around to watch you grope a fucking clown in a storm drain. You gulp and slowly and nervously reach into the street gutters. One hell of a birthday present, you suppose...

**_"...But I do."_ **

Right as your fingertips feel skin, Pennywise's mouth unhinges like a snake and her teeth twist into blades of bone.


	2. The Sewers

You shoot awake at the bus-stop. You frantically check your phone. You were late. You passed out and now you have to walk home in this unabating downpour. Stupid fucking nightmare/wet dream clown. You roll your eyes and exit the lovely dryness of the smoking shelter, drawing your hood and wading through the surrounding storm. Christ, what a weird dream. The birthday theme makes sense but where did the whole evil sewer-lurking nympho thing come from? God, your hormones are like a fucking wildfire. By the time you reach the next street, the rain reaches what must be record-breaking levels. Your ears are nearly blown out by the roar of the rainfall. If you're out here for much longer, you'll be caught in a flash-flood for sure. You hastily skitter into your closest hope at escape you have from the overbearing clouds - a half-open manhole. You firmly trap yourself in the sewers, the dank, badly lit belly of humble little Derry, Maine. You can ever so faintly hear the muffled white noise of nature from above the wet underground of concrete you're in.

You unholster your phone from your pocket and use its screen's glow to guide you through the darkness. You look for another utility hole so maybe you'll be able to climb out into a part of town not getting hit as hard. You soon regret venturing so far from the entrance, because now you're lost. Who would've guessed blindly poking around a basement-like labyrinth would've ended up getting you lost. Jesus Christ, could this BIRTHday get any worse?! Just before some serious dread starts settling into your shaking, soaked body, you're taken off guard. Is that...a balloon? Are you having a mirage? Aren't mirages for scorching deserts, not rainy sewers? There's a big red balloon, straight from the carnival, just floating around in the sewers like it owns the place. You don't feel the smallest breeze this deep down here yet the big scarlet egg is gliding away from you as if it's a frightened rat. Actually, it's more like it's...leading you somewhere. You chase after the helium-pumped bubble and it finally floats to the ceiling to reveal...another manhole! Maybe you should start going to church... 

You mount the old rusty ladder and climb up to your freedom. Your left foot stomps down on one of the highest rungs a bit too hard and it gives out, dragging you right down to the cold, damp floor of this damned cesspool. Vision blurry from a fall that could've killed you, you stumble to your feet whilst blindly scrambling around for your phone. Your fingers eventually find it laying in a muddy stain and...uh...a whole family of balloons stand in the glow of its screen. About 15 of them, some floating higher than your scalp, others as low as your feet. They part ways like Moses crossing the Red Sea, and it reveals the lofty shadow that was hiding behind the bubbly wall of crimson. It's her! It's the clown from your nightmare, Pennywise! Either you're having another dream, or that was no dream after all. She carries a single balloon in her hand by its string, as innocently as a child. But the murderous grin carved into her cheeks is the polar-fucking-opposite of innocent. 

_"Hey, (Y/N),"_ she nigh-whispers with a tone all sorts of subtly ominous. _"I'm so glad I was able to win you over. You must be so excited for your party!"_

 _"Y-Y-Y-You're not real!"_ you trembly shout, backing up as you try to shake yourself out of this crazy fever dream or hallucination or whatever the hell. _"Get away from me!"_

 _"Oh, I'm real. I'm real, (Y/N). Don't believe me? Come give Penny a hug and find out!"_ She lets go of the balloon to spread her arms wide and beckon you for a bear hug. 

You fuck that shit and go flying in the opposite direction, putting your legs in hyper-drive and making sure they go as fast as they can carry you. You retread the warren, this time panting your tired lungs out as your racing heart sends blood soaring through them as fast as bullet trains. A flood of more red balloons, dozens maybe even hundreds of them, come billowing at you like a cloud of fog, swallowing you with the color cherry. It's like you're being swarmed by red hornets the size of basketballs, you're terrified, you're blinded, you're disoriented. The balloons, acting like curtains being swiped aside, materialize Pennywise at your shoulder. An invisible force snatches your zipper and shreds your pants open, making you stumble to the floor with a nasty fall. 

The balloons drain of their helium so they sink down with you and now you're laying in a meadow of cheap, rose-colored party decorations. As you're forcefully undressed by what can only be the wind itself, Pennywise casually lumbers towards you down the sewer's grimy corridor, lifting not one finger. This thing is a God, well, a demon. It can do anything. The only reason you've survived for this long is because she loves watching you squirm. You try to crawl away once you're stripped buck-naked save for your raincoat, but her gloved hands slap down on the back of your knees and she overturns you on your back. Before you have even a second of a chance to wrestle the crazy bitch off of you, your wrists and ankles are pinned to the concrete by a quartet of invisible chokes. 

_"Look! No hands!"_ Pennywise cackles as she mockingly flutters her palms whilst you pitifully struggle underneath her telekinesis. _"We're gonna have loads of fun, (Y/N)! Speaking of loads... This is gonna be your best birthday ever! I'll make sure you never forget it..."_


	3. Happy Birthday

Just like in your first "dream", she flashes you and crams her tits in your face. You whimper and twist your head away as if she's your parent trying to feed you something nasty. 

_"Oh come on, (Y/N). You were drooling at these beauties at the bus-stop, now you're scared of them? Give them a few licks, they taste like the best lollipop you'll ever have!"_

She tries to inspire you by popping one of her own areola in her mouth and slurping on it for a few seconds, which, though muffled, still makes her moan like a girl masturbating for the first time, before passing the tray to you. You sluggishly and hesitantly flick one of her nipples with your tongue, making the milk-jug it belongs to jiggle with inhuman malleability. Pennywise's eyes nearly roll into the back of her head as she shudders with the dirtiest ecstasy on the market. Your lips latch onto the other nipple and starts sucking on it, driving Pennywise to an orgasm in seconds. It's not a modest one, either. Not only did her squeal of pleasure echo throughout the entire sewer system of the city, but the squirt stained right through her skirt and pooled around your legs like one of the pipes leaked. She follows up by repaying the favor, swallowing your genitals with her mouth as four more invisible hands fondle everything else. Your prostate, your nipples, your mouth. This monster is invading your body inside and out, leaving no stone unturned and no orifice untouched. 

But you'd be lying if you said you didn't kinda like it. A cutthroat, cosmic pleasure rots away your erogenous zones in their molestation by a jester-dressed devil. What a sentence. You can feel her wicked aura leaking into your insides, as if she's spoon feeding you her demonic energy through rape. A guilty pleasure stews in your balls as Pennywise juggles them in her mouth like the clown she is. Right as your testes let loose an orgasm you'll be recovering from for the rest of your life, all of the surrounding balloons pop in unison, putting a skip in your cumshot so it shoots even further. Pennywise literally slavers at the sight of your batter as it oozes off your banana-colored plastic hood. She spoils herself and starts slurping every glob of it off your raincoat and face. The afterglow leaves you in a strange, suspended state of numb pleasure and dull terror. 

_"W-What are you?"_ you weakly ask in a traumatized monotone. So many questions but now all you can muster is three measly words.

She grabs your head and gets so up close and personal your noses kiss. _"I'm the predator and you're my prey. Your seed is tastier than cotton candy, but what's cake without frosting? What's cum without fear? What's billions of your sweet, sweet children running down my throat without you whimpering in terror beneath me?"_ Your foreheads touch as she continues you rape you with her eyes' gaze alone. _"I'll tell you what, (Y/N). Since it's your birthday..."_ Her watery lips get so close to the side of your head that her breath tickles your ear hair with every syllable. **_"I'll give you a five-second head-start."_**

After swiping your hood off and snapping a flimsy red party hat into its place, she leaps off to her feet and your invisible restraints are undone in a flash. 

_"Five. Four."_

You shake off the confusion and rip yourself off the ground of the sewer to resume the chase. Instead of a light at the end of the tunnel, you see a ladder pointing up towards a third manhole.

_"Three. Two."_

You scamper up each and every rusted rung and finally get a breath of fresh downtown Derry air, still being showered by the blackened firmament. Thankfully it's not as bad as when you went in. Still, maybe it wasn't the best idea, going out in almost below freezing rain with absolutely nothing covering anything below your waist. Reason is irrelevant now, however, there's a fucking succubus clown hunting you down right now. You distinguish a figure from the rain-stricken fog, just a normal woman trudging through the harsh weather like you were 20 minutes ago. 

**_"ONE! READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!"_** you hear Pennywise's demonic voice completely outshine the thundering ambiance. You pick up your pace towards the one actual human you've seen since school ended.

 _"Ma'am! Ma'am, please help me!"_ You beg as you try to throw your voice over nature's roar and you're half-nakedly chased through the streets by Pennywise. _"This clown is trying to fucking kill me, or rape me, or something!"_

 _"What the hell?"_ she asks with understandable confusion, trying to drown out the image of your cock dangling about in the rain by closing an eye, partially looking away, and shielding your junk with her arm. _"Dude, public indecency isn't something the police just sneeze at, put some pants on."_

 _"What?!"_ You freeze in your footprints so Pennywise gets a chance to tackle you to the ground. The bystander doesn't seem to notice her. _"You don't see the psychotic fucking demon clown trying to molest me?!"_ You feebly yell as Pennywise dots your soaked face with kisses and gropes you. 

_"I see a clown, alright."_

Oh, God... _"Ma'am, please! Please h-!"_

 _"EXCUSE ME, SIR!"_ Pennywise hammily interrupts.

_"Oh, fucking hell..."_

_"Do you have Prince Albert in a can? You do? Well, you better let the poor guy out!"_

Pennywise gives a hearty laugh to her own stupid joke before nearly gouging your eye out by blowing on a party horn in your face that she pulled out of no where. 

_"The homeless shelter is up the road, and the loony bin is about three blocks north,"_ the woman sarcastically gives directions as she starts to walk away. 

_"No! Please! You have to beli-"_

Pennywise silences your cry for help by smashing a pie into your face, splattering the front half of your head with something thick and white. 

_"What's wrong, (Y/N)? Need some filling? I'm a clown, not a dentist!"_

Pennywise almost blows your fucking ears out laughing at herself again, and you messily try to pry the mask of gooey stuffing off your face. The fellow Derry resident, of course, apparently doesn't notice the guts of a pie you're painted with. 

_"Hobos, man, I swear..."_ She mutters as the misty atmosphere assimilates her once and for all.

In her eyes, there was only one clown - you. A bottomless weirdo in a party hat who just crawled out of the sewer and screamed at her that he was being raped by an invisible demon clown. Pennywise is a curse for you and you alone to bare. There's no escape. You will be milked by a sadistic whatever until your testes grow too old to produce sperm anymore. You try one last desperate attempt at escape, shoving Pennywise off of you when she gets too caught up in licking the filling and tears off your face. Maybe if you get far enough away from the sewers, she'll fuck off and target some other poor bastard who gets too close. But no such luck. Pennywise has made her decision, and it stars lucky you. Your ankle is seized by nothing and you're dragged through the wet asphalt right back into the manhole to Hell.

 _"Uh-uh-uh, (Y/N)! You think I'm just gonna let the birthday boy slip away that easy?"_ you hear bellow from the sewers below.

You stab your ten fingernails into the concrete to anchor yourself but it's pointless.

**_"No! NO! NOOOooₒₒₒ!"_ **

The manhole automatically closes like a trap door to lock your pleading echo in the underground of Derry. It was the last anyone ever heard of you. And it was first you ever heard of the wicked being that sucked you dry over the span of years. Getting every atom in your body molested by an interdimensional monster, being that terribly "intimate" with such an ungodly creature gave you hellish glimpses and flashes of its true nature. It adores the persona of Pennywise the Dancing Clown but behind the mask of makeup and balloons is something much more sinister. There's only word in any human language that could encompass those flashes of Hell itself you saw as it devoured your semen cell by cell. 

And that's just it. 

It.  



End file.
